Kalaya sighed, staring up at the stars. Normally when she did so she was looking for a sign of some kind. This time, however, it was to help her remember all the times she's seen them from her window back in Lily.

They'd been companions back in those formative years. Something about them always drew the imagination, be it the vast open possibilities they promised, their sheer beauty and wonder or just their comforting permanence. They radiated potential, and she would often turn her face to bask in that comforting glow.

After all, that potential, that promise of being able to help make a better world, was something that she had longed for. As the fifth child, the line of succession was long enough that her parents had never even bothered with helping her learn how to actually run the Kingdom. Her brother, the firstborn, got the lionfish's share. While his younger sister got the next priority. By the time two more siblings came into the picture the plate of experiences was well and truly picked clean. 

Conversely, with five younger siblings, there were more bodies available than there were worthwhile jobs for a kingdom as small as Lily. She had had the choice of supervising the barges - loaded down with fish for transportation up the river to Hyacinth, or tending the royal preserve. All fifty feet of it.

Her father was caring and loving, but ... passive. He'd rather quote scripture and philosophy to support why things should stay the same. Tradition and routines that were stubbornly implacable in the face of her requests.

Her mother was more open to her views. While she still deferred to the King, She'd been supportive when she'd found her loophole. A tradition that could support a role for her outside the Kingdom, one that promised more than just being the wife of some similarly low-ranked prince or princess.

For all that though, home was safe and caring. More than she'd had out here in a long time. For one brief moment, she considered whether it was time to return. To at least rest and recover, before heading out again. Whatever stories of failure and betrayal Petony might provide, the simple fact was that - short of locking her in the dungeons - they couldn't physically prevent her from leaving again. They could only decide how much support they gave her in that endeavor. (She may have made that very point when she left before, which had netted her some gold, armour and the sword which was probably still lodged in the decking of the [i]Beneficence[/i].)

But ... No. It wasn't time to go home yet.

Petony thought she had failed, but that was just her opinion. The fight with Ushua had not been her fault, it was the fault of whoever had cursed her sword. The only way she'd truly be a failure would be if she gave up now and allowed herself to head back, or be sent back, to Lily.

She turned to Petony, staring back against the Tiger knight's anger with the solidity of a mountain. With her own anger buried well under a layer of tiredness and just being [i]done[/i] with stupid things getting in her way, she refrained from pointing out the fact that right now she [i]couldn't[/i] sleep thanks to whatever Girel had done.

"Do you remember your life before you swore the oaths?" she asked. "What was it for you? That made you become a knight?"